


But it's enough

by Dansnotavampire



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: 'Surprisingly soft" - AI, Corporate Espionage, Evil Corporations, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kepler Has Feelings, M/M, Torture, but he does, duh - Freeform, he doesn't want to, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dansnotavampire/pseuds/Dansnotavampire
Summary: You open your mouth - presumably for a witty reply, or as sarcastic a remark as you can manage in your current state, but what comes out is "Warren Kepler will save me."And... well. He does.





	But it's enough

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Do you think at all before you speak?" Which I edited slightly to fit the context better

Someone's fist hits your face. A man, just over six feet tall, built like an ox. Smart enough to be trusted with interrogations, not smart enough to be trusted with anything else. 

One of your teeth is knocked loose. Hopefully it's only one - though with the blood pooling in your mouth, it's kinda hard to tell. You spit the blood out, some spattering on to your assailant, though most spraying over the grimy concrete floor. 

"Tell us what we want to know, and you can leave," says a tall, thin man from the corner of the room - you assume he's the supervisor. He'd be almost scary, you think, if you hadn't met Cutter. If you didn't _work_ for Warren Kepler. (Because everyone who knows you that he's the one you're loyal to, even if Cutter does sign your paychecks.) 

You laugh, bitterly, painfully. You try and smirk, cock an eyebrow and exude confidence the way that you should in this situation, (the way you've been taught to in this situation) but - but it fucking _hurts_. Your lip's been split, your eye is almost bruised shut, and you're missing - you probe the side of your mouth with your tongue - two teeth. You don't smirk, but you put as much cocky, overblown confidence as you can into your voice when you say "You think I'm scared of _you?_ There's nothing you could do to me that people haven't already tried." 

You're sure that that's a lie - torture is a realm of infinite possibility, after all - but you don't care. Either you'll die here, with Goddard's secrets locked away under your tongue, or Kepler and Maxwell will save you. 

The man pulls a knife on you, and you have mere moments to register that fact before you feel another layer of pain add to your side. The hot, sticky wetness of blood oozes over your side, and you retreat into yourself, focusing on your breathing. _Compartmentalize._ you think. _They wouldn't let you die._

You have no idea if that's true. _Maxwell_ would save you, you know, but... 

She isn't the one who calls the shots around here. 

The man's fist hits your face again, his knuckles going into your temple, and you fall into blissful, painless unconsciousness. 

You're not sure how much time has passed when you come to, but your wounds have been cleaned and bandaged, and the beginnings of bruises scattered across your skin have bloomed into full purple marks. 

There's a different man here, now. Wiry and thin, with arms that have the tensile strength of spider silk and claw-like fingers. He draws his fingers over a long syringe filled with honey-yellow liquid. He smiles a menacing smile, all teeth, no joy. "Now," he says, voice laced with malice, "Tell us. Why is Goddard Futuristics sending its trusted employees to spy on us?" 

You open your mouth - presumably for a witty reply, or as sarcastic a remark as you can manage in your current state, but what comes out is "Warren Kepler will save me." 

And... well. He does. 

The door bursts open just as the wiry man takes a long, purposeful stride towards you, and jabs the syringe into your neck. A burning, _blinding_ pain radiates through you when he does. There's the sound of screaming, and it's only later that you realise that sound was coming from you. 

The next minutes, (or maybe - probably - hours) pass in a pain-heavy haze. Kepler's strong arms undo your restraints and lift you from the chair you're in. Normally you'd feel embarrassed to be being treated like this, like you could be broken, but pain is still ringing through your veins and you've screamed yourself hoarse, so you tuck your head into Kepler's chest, and let silent, wet tears leak from your eyes. He doesn't speak, but his hands are soft when he deposits you in the back of whatever vehicle him and Maxwell drove here, and he climbs into the back with you. 

"Maxwell, nearest Goddard hospital. Step on it." 

She obeys silently and swiftly, recognising the hint of urgency in his voice that will be as much emotion as he shows until the end of the mission, until you're safely in a Goddard bed and he's drunk enough that he'll allow himself to feel again. 

You pass out, despite your best efforts not to, and come to again a few hours later, to the sound of Kepler and Maxwell talking. His hand is in your hair, absentmindedly carding through it, and he stiffens when Maxwell asks "Do you love him?" 

"Do you think at all before you ask stupid questions?" he replies, but he sounds as tender as he ever has sober. You turn your head slightly under his hand, and he moves his thumb to stroke along your cheekbone, gently, tenderly, avoiding the worst of the bruising. 

"Answer the question, Colonel," says Maxwell, her tone patient, but demanding. 

He sighs. "If we were any other pair of people, I would say that I did." 

"Huh." A pause, and then "Don't hurt him. He likes us." 

His voice takes on a certain softness, and he says "I'll try not to." 

It's not perfect, but it's the best that you're going to get from him, and it's enough.


End file.
